


Royals

by Mithlomi



Series: At the End of it All... [5]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Woman being fabulous BFFs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Constance isn't sure if she's more annoyed at the King or the Queen. d'Artagnan, on the other hand, has a very clear idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Constance

**Author's Note:**

> Because I need these two to be friends...
> 
> Forgive the lack of historical accuracy about French Court life.
> 
> Unbeta'd

"Dearest Anne, I do not believe I have been introduced to your lovely friend…"

Constance curtseyed on instinct as soon as she heard the King’s voice and it took her a moment to realise it was herself he was referring too. Straightening slowly, she looked up to meet the boyish grin of the King and slowly turned to Anne with wide eyes.

She could have sworn she saw the Queen roll her eyes…

The King, it seemed, missed the gesture, too focused on Constance herself. She swallowed tightly, shaking her head a little and dropping down low once more. “Your Majesty…” She was still not quite used to the careful refinement needed for court life. She was not entirely sure how Anne managed it; it was a labyrinth of courtesies and cordiality, but she supposed that was what a lifetime of good breeding brought you. The Queen seemed to manage it with ease.

With a barely audible sigh, Anne stepped forward. “Your Majesty, this is Madame Constance Bonacieux, a very dear friend…” The Queen smiled softly at her as she spoke, a gesture Constance returned. She was glad and so very grateful for the Queen’s friendship. She was a wonderful woman and Queen, of grace and intelligence and possessed a calm strength that Constance admired. They had found a kindred spirit in each other that helped them both. 

Which is why Constance knew that Anne would not find any harm in the King’s flirtations. Mostly because she knew Constance was very much in love with another man, another man who happened to be in the very same room, joking with his fellow Musketeers. But more than that she had become something of a confidante for the Queen, and while Anne knew better than to reveal her secrets outright (Constance thought years of court had taught her the perils of that…), she trusted Constance enough to speak as openly as she could…

She had come to observe the relationship between The King and Queen was built on tender trust and mutual affection, a great respect. The love of a brother and sister, perhaps, but not love of the romantic kind.

It seemed to work, and Anne did not seem to mind. The King was a… character, to say the least. A lifetime had privilege had, for lack of a better word, made him spoilt, and wrapped up as he was in the Cardinal’s schemes, gave him an inability to think for himself. Constance did think, however, if he were given the chance, he could be a great King on his own terms, without one such as the Cardinal making the decisions for him. Especially with one such as Anne at his side…

But now was not the time for such musings. The King still gazed at her as if she were a new toy. Constance blinked once more and cleared her throat. “It is a great honour to meet you, Your Majesty.” Out of the corner of her eye, Constance swore she could have seen a small smirk grace the Queen’s lips.

"The honour is all mine, I assure you…" He took her hand and kissed it, almost raising a brow.

She had to bite her lips to keep from laughing. He made very little attempt to be subtle. Meeting the Queen’s gaze once more, Constance saw she too was struggling to keep in her laughter.

"Perhaps you might allow Constance to open the dancing with you, my love. I am otherwise indisposed, of course…" She lay a gentle hand on her rounding belly. "… And I assure you, Constance is a wonderful dancer…"

Constance opened her mouth to protest, closing it quickly when the Queen stared at her, struggling to keep the knowing smirk from her lips. She knew. Curse her, she knew exactly what she was doing. Handing Constance over to the King meant his attention was kept from straying to others- such as the babble of woman in the corner of the room who knew catching the eye of the King would be advantageous. It was not that the Queen was jealous- she merely wanted to protect her husband from those who wished to use him…

But more important than that, Constance had only recently learnt the court dances she would be required to know and lacked the practice Anne had. To ask her to dance with the King meant all the eyes of the court would be on her (including d’Artagnan, who she was sure would have a few words to say about that…)

"What a splendid idea." The King grinned. "Will you join me, Madame Bonacieux?" The fact that she was a Madame did not seem to stop his sauciness, even if he did not know she was a widow.

Constance stayed silent for a moment, her smile polite although she sent the Queen a pleading gaze, not to make her do this. In return, the Queen’s eyes drifted to the band of Musketeers in the corner of the room. Specifically, to Aramis. 

Constance sighed.

"Your Majesty, I would be delighted…" Taking his hand with a grin, he lead her to the middle of the room, accompanied by the polite applause of the court. As she turned, she caught d’Artagnan’s gaze. She watched as the surprise registered on his features before it quickly faded into annoyance, shaking his head a little as he rolled his eyes. The sight of a man who that knew he would have to watch the most powerful man in France flirt with his lover for the rest of his life now. A mild inconvenience but an inconvenience all the same.

The others knew it too, judging by the Porthos’ loud guffaw as he clapped d’Artagnan on the back, and Athos’ half smirk.

Aramis, for once, was too preoccupied with talking to the Queen.

Constance smiled then, a genuine smile as she turned back to the King just as the music started. It was not difficult and the King, for his part, had about as much grace as she did- an even match in their inability that Constance found herself enjoying the dance more than she expected. 

As she turned, she caught the Queen’s gaze. With a spark in her eyes, Anne lifted her goblet and inclined her head, a small knowing smirk on her lips.

It was Constance’s turn to roll her eyes…


	2. d'Artagnan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan, on the other hand, has a very clear idea...

"You can’t blame him really…"

"No you can’t. She’s a beautiful woman…"

"Yes, alright, thank you. You can shut up now."

He sent a glare towards the grinning Aramis and Porthos. They had, in all honesty, become experts at winding him up, particularly when it came to Constance. For the most part, he ignored it, or responded in kind. But that was a little difficult when the King of France insisted on flirting with her right in front of him.

She twisted under the King's arm, giggling brightly as she did. She had a beautiful smile and her laughter rang throughout the room, unabashed in her joy. She had relaxed then, obviously deciding to throw caution to the wind. There was a slight bounce to her steps now, her loose auburn curls falling over her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, her smile contagious. It was wonderful, to see her so carefree.

They were right; she was beautiful. And the King thought so too.

He teased and so did she. He winked and she returned the playful gesture. He knew it meant nothing, no more than her kind heart indulging the King in his childish manner.

Still, he felt his hackles raise, shifting his weight, brow furrowed.

Only he should be able to make her laugh like that…

He knew he was being stupid. He once assured her that there was never any need to be jealous and he was more than aware of his hypocrisy. He knew it was entirely innocent, even as he watched her curtsey and smile as the King kissed her with an exaggerated bow. She loved him with her whole heart. She had told him more times than he could count, had shown him in every possible way how much he meant to her.

So it was pure, unadulterated childishness that caught her eye as the dance ended and quickly made his way through the crowd to the quiet courtyard outside. It did not take long for him to hear her soft step behind him. He waited a moment before he turned…

She stood with her hands on her hips, cheeks flushed from her exertions, staring at him with a raised brow and a small knowing smile. He wasn’t about to give up the game just yet.

He bowed to her with the same heightened flourish as the King, imitating his clipped tone without a fault. “Madame Bonacieux. Charmed, I am sure…” He straightened with a tight smile that was only half in jest.

She simply shook her head and sighed.

"What was it you once told me?" She crossed her arms then, tilting her head, as if pondering a very difficult question. "You said something… what was it? Oh, yes…" Stepping closer, she gently lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her and her bright gaze. "There’s no need to be jealous…"

He took her hand in his own, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself…” He did not bother to check the hint of bitterness in his tone. He was sure he was practically pouting.

"I was," she said with a smile, unashamed of herself. She had no reason to be, and he was quickly falling to the conclusion he would not win here. "It’s not every day you get to dance with the King…"

"It’s not every day you get to _flirt_ with…"

"Stop it." Her voice was harsher now, fingers pressed against his lips and he met her gaze with wide eyes. He had not meant to upset her…

"The Queen, as wily as she is, practically handed me to him. Besides, she wanted to talk to… she wanted the chance to get away for a moment…" She dropped her head and his brow furrowed. There was something he wasn’t telling her. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

"But don’t start acting like this. That’s not fair." She lowered her voice, pressing herself even closer, fingertips dancing over the exposed skin of his collarbone, soft and familiar. His eyes closed as he sighed.

"I’m sorry. I know, I’m being an idiot. It’s just…" His arms wrapped round her waist, holding her close, leaning forward and resting his forehead to hers. 

"You could be a King’s Mistress." His voice was soft, low, deep in his chest. "He could… shower you with gold and jewels. You could dress in the finest silks, live in rooms such as this, be waited upon hand and foot." He slowly raised his hand, lightly tugging at her loose curls. "You could have everything you could ever want…"

It was no less than she deserved.

He could never give her that.

Her light chuckle broke him out of his melancholy and he raised his head just in time to catch her lips in a warm kiss, her fingers finding purchase in his hair as he held her tight, sighing softly against her lips.

"Everything I want," she spoke as pulled away, blushing in the fading light.

"Everything I want is right here with me."

He finally smiled.

"Good answer…"


End file.
